AGRA
by AuroreMoriarty
Summary: Mary knew her hapiness couldn't last. And now, the countdown had just stopped. She had to make a choice: going back to her "master" or staying with the ones she loved, at a high prize...
1. Dear Sherlock

Ah. Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock. Do you _really_ think you got rid of me? That I would go that easily? If so you'd disappoint me. But I doubt it. After all we are like separated twins. Bounded. Connected. You are me and I am you. I have to admit that I'd have never thought that you'd have the guts to jump…You keep on surprising me after all.

Our reunion gets closer. But I think I owe you some explanation before our next head-to-head, my dear. On that roof I, too, have faked my death. I deserve an Oscar for that, don't I? But let's skip the how. You can easily find out with your precious methods. I know every one of your goings during your « death ». How you managed to destroy my network. A network that took me years to create. Men I personally chose and trained. I even have killed numerous of them just to keep the very best. Greatest countries' armies would die of envy seeing my troop. And you, you would have managed to reduce to dash that all alone, like a big boy in only two years? Come on. If that mission was a success it's only because I allowed it. I've wanted to recruit new members and to fire my men for a while. You only did the dirty work, thank you. Besides, that was fun to see you. You put your very heart and soul into it. I wonder who you were thinking of… John? The poor little John to whom you broke the heart. A man that sacrificed his love life and put his own life more than once in danger and who saved you more than you could count. I saw all the notes you wrote to him without having the courage to post it. They were touching. But know that your dear doggy wasn't alone.

Of course there was Mycroft. That dearest Mycroft. What an incredible big brother! I admit that I, personally, would never have thought of giving all my brother's secrets to his archenemy but hey, I'm just a psychopath… Obviously he kept an eye on the little Johnny but not as a flag of brotherly love. No. Only because of guilt. It's his guilt that makes him watch over you, doesn't it? Since your first overdose in front of him. Am I right? But his conscience, I guess that even the British government must have one, doesn't force him to look at the adrenaline junkie because the nice little sociopath who is his brother asked him to. Mycroft knows a lot of things. Mycroft knows parts of my network. And he didn't decide that it was a good idea to give you all its ramifications. He's not going to confess his wrongs. After all he trained some of them. Yes, you've read perfectly.

Do you remember our little chat at your house in front of a nice cup of tea? We were talking about the point of having an ordinary person to help us getting close to the average. Well know that I have found myself my own pet. I'm sure you would love it. Or you already do. As loyal as formidable. A trained assassin. Calm and prepared. The very best. A must-have.

I'm coming back Sherlock but I never really left with my assistant on your side. I want to tell you this very words before our next confrontation: John Watson is definitely in danger.


	2. Dilemma

Mary's heart was racing in her chest and her stomac was tightening. She had never been so anxious in her whole life, not even on her wedding day. Her whole body was aching. Next to that, her labour seemed fun and easy.

She tenderly kissed her daughter's forehead as it was the last time. She looked her husband sleeping for a few minutes to find the courage that she hopelessly needed. She took on the writing desk the letter that she had just received and that was getting her into that state. She opened the fire on the gaz stove and burned the note. You can not be to cautious even John was not the kind of person who rummages through. He had choosen to ignore her past and to trust her. The couple had never been as happy since little Rose's birth. A happiness nearly too beautiful to last. Too artificial.

Noiseless she left the house and started to drive in the dark night. The streets were calm and nearly deserted on that late night. On her drive, Mary only passed two buses, five cars and a cab. After about half an hour she stopped the car in front of an abandonned building. She stayed there five more minutes, her hands on the wheel and taking deep breathes. She was fighting the urge to move off the the car and to fly away, to go pick her family before leaving the country. But she could not run away from her problems. It was impossible and she could not inflict that to her husband and daughter.

She took her keys, mobile phone she put in her purse, and her gun and left the safe passenger compartment to enter into her worst nightmare.

Mary needed a new job, to take her mind of things. A normal job, a normal life and leaving who she was behind her… Her red pen in her hand she started to look at every classified ads. A job as a cashier at Tesco's, one as a housekeeper, as a medical secretary and another one as night shift in a museum. Those are the results of her search after looking at every newspaper. She could apply for the medical secretary job. She was nice and had good rapport with others. She was organised. Besides what interessed her the most in this job was the possibility to help others. A way to pay her debts. She drew a thick circle around the ad and took her phone.

On Monday morning Mary arrived early for her interview that she nailed. She was asked to start the next day. The waiting room of the small surgery was empty as she started her first day at work. She sat in front of the main computer, made the agenda and prepared the first patients' files. She wondered what did the doctor look like. She had not met him yet and she only knew what the gossips said : he was a good doctor thought he was not always there. « And he is not ponctual ». The pratice started to abound in the small waiting room and the magazines started to run out. She was about to announce to the pratice that the doctor could not be there and to sent them to other surgeries when the doctor finally arrived. The depressed doctor was daydreaming. Mary dared to greet him with a joyful « Good morning ». Hearing that, the doctor looked up, became aware of where he was and ripped the sadness off his face. At the end of the day, Mary decided to bring him a cup of hot tea. When she entered she saw him once again sad and lost in his thoughts. She knocked on the open door and he posted a bright smile on his face.

« I don't think we had the time to introduce ourselves this morning. I'm Mary Morstan.

\- John Watson, nice to meet you. »

John Watson. This name rang a bell but she could not remember how she knew it. A long awkward silence made his way between them.

« So, you don't come from London, am I right ?

\- Indeed I just moved in. Is it obvious ? Do I look like a tourist ? » she said with a smile

« No, it's just that…you don't have the regional accent » he said with a sigh as he was exasperated by his own words. « Actually I can't hear any so I can't tell where you come from.

\- Well let's just say that I've travelled a lot lot and I haven't stayed somewhere long enough to imitate its accent.

\- So you're a globetrotter ? Where have you travelled ?

\- To America, Asia, a bit of everywhere. And what about you ? Have you travelled ?

\- Does the war in Afghanistan count ?

\- A soldier…Who could have guessed ? Erm, I mean, it's quite surprising that a London doctor enrolls in the army.

\- You'd be surprised. Actually I was an Army doctor. »

He then stopped a few seconds as he was thinking and then added : « Would you like to continue this little chat with a drink ? »

Mary hid her gun in her purse, fixed her hair and took a deep breath before entering the abandonned house. If the outside left a lot to be desired, the inside, on the other side, was richly decorated and neat. The wallpaper, albeit a little but old-fashioned, was in good condition. On the wall beautiful paintings. Despite the fact that it was not cold outside, a fire was burning in a sumptuous fireplace. In front of that fireplace were two big burgury leather armchairs, the kind comfortable and elegant. The armchairs turned the back on the door by which Mary entered. All that she could see of her interlocutor was an arm –the left one – holding a crystal with a good amount of whiskey. The young woman knew that she did not need to announce herself for the man in the armchair knew all of her actions without even needed to turn around. Besides she was waited, which helps. She stood still in the door frame and waited for him to break the silence as always. Thinking intensely of some obscur plan, the man took his time before finally speaking to his guest.

« Does he know you're here ?

\- No.

\- Have you been followed ?

\- No, I've checked.

\- Very well »

With a wave of his left hand he invited her to sit in the other armchair but she declined. He slightly turned his head to disdainfully fix his gaze on her, with a eyebrow raised, before looking back at the burning fire. He snapped his fingers and a big sinister man in a black suit held her a big brown envelop. She opened it and took out some pages where was written the instructions for her mission.

« You do know the procedure ?

\- Yes I do.

\- Perfect »

She turned around and went to the exit. Right when she touched the doorknob, the young man's voice made itself heard for the last time that night.

« Your mission is almost over. Make me proud and you will be fully rewarded. I don't have to remind you what happens if you desappoint me.

\- Have I ever given you a reason to have doubts about me ? »

And she left this horrible place that she hated as well as the man she once admired.


	3. Memories

For their first date – the chat in front of a drink after work can not really count as a « date » - John took Mary to a charming little restaurant in Soho. As soon as they sat, a man with long tied hair welcomed them, lit some candles « to be more romantic » and then talked with John. When he left, Mary asked John :

« So it's where you bring all your girlfriends ?

\- No, only the ones I' m really interessed in. »

The evening was lovely and as the night was fast Mary found the doctor more and more charming. And it has nothing to do with the wine. When she got home, late that night, she had butterflies in her stomach.

The next day, after her lunch break, she found a little note on her desk. « Thanks for last night ». The morning had been full and they had not had the time to talk. His way of telling her that he appreciated their date was adorable.

When she introduced the next patient to John, she brought the file with a little Post-It on the cover. « A little walk after work ? ». As an answer Mary received the doctor's charming smile.

Once the last patient had left John met Mary at the front desk. She took her coat and they left together.

« Since I've just moved in here and I don't really know the town, I thought a real Londoner could show me the city… »

The couple wandered on the edge of the Thames in the sweet air of May. They talked about everything and nothing, it did not matter as long as they were together. Around 9 pm, John saw her to her flat door. They stayed there a while as none of them wanted that evening to end. In their sweet reverie, they forgot to eat as if the lovers only live on water and air. But their angry stomachs were decided to bring them down to Earth.

« Would you like to come in ? I could cook something. I'm rather a good cook.

\- No, it wouldn't be rational. We have to work tomorrow. I'll take something on my way back home. »

Mary seemed a little desappointed. John pressed her hand, bended over and kissed her. A sweet and yet bristly kiss as John had decided to let his moustache grow.

The couple kept on seeing after work, all the invitations made on the Post-It on the covers of files. Quickly they both understood it was more than just a flirt and they were involved in a serious relationship. Mary noticed that John refused to talk about his past. He hardly mentionned his army years but those were the only stories he shared. As if John Watson had existed for only 3 months. Meanwhile Mary neither did not like to hold back the past. So they only knew of each other what the moment they shared together. Mary did not even know where he lived nor what did his flat look like. They shared every night at Mary's. She only knew that he had moved away because of a problem with his flatmate and then lived in one of those room the army rented to its veterans. A room he hated and which he ran away as often as he could.

One evening as she was coming back with her arms full of grocery bags, she passed by a tall grey haired and tanned man on the landing. She opened the door to see John trying to put in the garbage an even number of beer cans. Curious she looked at John with interrogation in her eyes while she was putting the grocery away.

« An old friend of mine came to say hello.

\- When didn't he stay ?

\- He had to go to work. There's been a murder or something. »

While they were talking she heard police siren going on and then leaving. Mary wondered what kind of inspector would go to a crime scene after several drinks but she did not say a word. She would not criticise John's only friend for she knew. Particulary not since she had only known him for five minutes and they never met. Once it was done, they sat on the couch with burning coffee mugs.

« Since you sleep here every nights why don't you move in ? And we can invite your friend in a proper way, as grown up ». And she held him the newly made specially for him keys.

It was a beautiful day of summer. The sun was shinning high in the sky and on the thermometer once could read the 75.2° F. Mary, an adorable 8 years old girl, was spending the week end at her grandmother's while her parents were on holiday. She loved when her parents travelled since she was staying with her grandmother. They both played the little girl's favourite games while eating ice creams, they baked cakes… On that late afternoon Mary was at the end of the garden on the swing. Suddendly her grandmother called her. She ran as fast as her little legs allowed her to, smelling the delicious smell of freshly baked cookies. She arrived in the kitchen, out of breath but with a smile on her face. The cookies were still in the oven. Her grandmother was sitting on a chair, with tears all over her face.

Her parents' funerals were as beautiful as horrible. A lot of people came to pay a last homage to the couple in the little church full of flowers. After the ceremony Mary stayed on the grave while everyone was inside, drinking to their memories. She could not do it. She needed to stay by them one last time. She could not bear the pity on the face of the guests when they looked at the poor little orphan that she then became. Once everyone had left, the old lady joint her granddaughter and they stayed still there for a while. They did not talk. They did not need it. No words could express how they felt. The sun was setting when they went back to the car. From then her grandmother was her only family. The bounds between them became even stronger.

Despite this tragedy, Mary was a good student. She always had excellent grades and even could not listening in class albeit she perfectly faked interessed. She was the one who finishd first every test and exam which brought her her classmates' jalousy. At the same time she was the one they went to when they needed help. Mary was a rather good teacher though she often inside marvelled at others' stupidity and slowness. Besides, every body who knew her loved her thanks to her good mood, her kindness and her sweetness. However, Mary had no friends. She never felt close enough to someone to call so. So she was lonely.

Her grandmother was not rich and Mary had not the possibility to extracurricular activities if she wanted. She found herself surrounded by books. She particularly loved mysteries and riddles that sharpened her mind.

When she was a teenager, her grandmother became dreadfully ill. Mary helped her the best she could with the housework and by taking care of her. At that time she decided to have a job because her grandmother's pension was not longer enough for them. Mary shared her day between school, work and housework. However the amount of work and the delicate situation did not affect her grates nor her jolly nature.

At her grandmother's death when she was in senior year she asked for her emancipation. She had no longer family and she could not see herself in host families. Besides she already could take care of herself. So she kept on working at the store. If her salary was enough to live alone she could not affort prestigious universities she wanted to major in and in which she would have been accepted easily. She decided her studied not according to her abilities and willings but according to her wallet.

John and Mary have officially moved in together for a week. A week of Mary rearranging the flat's decoration to be less girly and a little more like the couple. John had to choose between several shades of blue – which looked exactly the same he could swear it. Finally Mary seemed satisfied enough to invite John's friend for dinner.

When Lestrade walked in the flat on the Friday night he immediatly smelled a delicious smell from the kitchen. A stew with a foreign smell : a tajine. He gave John a bottle of red wine. Mary welcomed the inspector with a glass of sparkling wine. The evening was nice. The Detective Inspector Lestrade, a charming man, heaped praise on her host's cooking. John was smiling and seemed to be happy. Mary wondered why did he wait that long to introduce him to her.

Despite the apparent good atmosphere, the two friends did not share funny stories, nor even a private joke. Actually the conversation was only about the couple or the routine. Mary asked how they met but the answer was vague.

« I was on a case and um… we needed a doctor and John arrived for the forensic examination. » Lestrade avoided John's look.

« I didn't know that you helped resolving a case.

\- I am man full of surprise » John replied and then he emptied in one his glass.

When Greg left the flat, John seemed nearly…eased as he had been afraid all night long of something.

« It went well, didn't it ?

\- Yes, honey. The meal was delicious » John said as he kissed her cheek before he left, closing the conversation.

The next day, after work while John had a day off, Mary came back home to find John slumped on the couch with an almost empty bottle of wiskey in his hand. He was dozing and mumbling incomprehensible things. She helped him to go to bed without a word – he would not be able to remember in the morning so what was the point ? He slept like a log all evening long. Mary stayed up until midnight and then decided to go to bed. She entered the bed without taking care of not waking John up. Yet he was still asleep. As she could not find sleep she decided to read a chapter or two. She heard John moving over and over on the other side of the bed. « It's the beginning of the hangover ». But John did not rush to the bathroom. He was still sleeping. He talked in his sleep, a very troubled sleep.

« Moriarty…No !...Don't jump, please !...Sherlock ! He's my friend, let me through…NO ! » And he woke up with a start and with tears all over his face. His breathing was halting. He sat down and took several deep breathes to calm down. This situation was nothing new to him. He suddendly seemed to remember Mary's presence and he turned to her. He saw that she was up too and that she had seen everything. Mary held his arms around him as he bursted into tears again.

« John I understand if you don't want to tell me. But you need to talk to someone. Anyone. Greg maybe ? Anyway, you need to know that I'll always be there for you »

John took a deep breath and told Mary every detail of his life since he came back from Afghanistan. How his life had changed thanks to an extraordinary man, a man he lost when he had swore to do anything to protect him.


	4. The Client

Mary went to her car while trying to find her keys in her purse. Her hands were shaking os hard that she could hardly unlock the car. She entered in the small passenger compartment, gripped the wheel with both her hand and took deep breathes to calm down. She needed a drink. And to cry. She felt ashamed, anxious, nauseous and guilty, like after every one of their confrontation after she had met John. She felt her stomach tightened, her bile rising... She allowed her tears to shed on her pale cheeks. When she closed her eyes, she saw the young man, his cold smile, his dead eyes…She was lost. For the first time in her life she did not know what to do. She always had an idea, a plan….But not this time. She did not know what to get rid of this situation. In any case, they put her family in a sensitive situation – or worst, in front of great danger – and she would lose anyway. She stayed there thinking a while. Then her tears stopped, her eyes enlightened and she started to search in her mission order. She browsed the document at hot speed. She closed her eyes, breathed out and smiled. She knew what she was going to do and how. She had finally chosen her side.

The next day after John had gone to work and after she had dropped Rose in the nursery, Mary decided to execute the plan. She parked her car in small parallel street and walked in the building her boss provided her. She went up stairs and settled by the street window. She brought out of her bag her silent airgun and placed it in front of the window, hidden but still able to accomplish its mission. She patiently waited for her prey, as if she was haunting some animal in some exotic place. As she was waiting for the right moment, she got a glance at the room. She did not see anything out of the ordinary, no security camera but she knew that it would be craftily hidden if there were any. Her plan had to be infallible.

It was a little later than noon when her prey finally came on. She waited for it to be perfectly in her gun sights. She took a deep breath she held, wide opened her eyes et put her finger on the trigger. As she was about to knock her prey down by the book, she lost balance, falling on her equipement and missing the then-alerted-prey. She saw it trying to find the origin of the shooting while she was discretly and quickly putting her gun away in her bag. She ran down the stairs and rushed anxiously to her car. She looked upon her shoulder to see that Sherlock had followed her. He knew. Then she needed to make him understand without her « master » knowing it. Hard to do when he was not the trustfull kind of guy, even after all « good » and faithful services. She started up the car and went back home without a single word for the detective.

Once safe and sound at home, she cleverly hid her gun and waited for John. When he came back, he found her sleeping on the couch. He put a blanket on her then went to the bathroom. Mary opened her eyes but did not move until she heard the water of the shower and John singing. Silently she stood up and walked to John's coat. She brought out of the pocket his phone. Her fingers ran on the keyboard then she delected the text as soon as it was sent to the detective. « I can explain, just give me a chance. Meet me tomorrow at 9 at Oxford Circus Station. I'm being watched. We must be very careful. »

She left early the house, claiming she had to go to work, leaving John and Rose alone. She knew John would not go to Sherlock's when he was in charged of their daughter, he was afraid to put her infront of great danger. He was neither paranoid nor overprotective but he knew his best friend's tendancies to put himself in danger too well.

In Oxford Street, she went to the closest Starbucks. It was full as she expected it. She made her way to the bathroom and locked her in. She was sure that her watchmen lost her. However, as well-organised as she was, and since she did not want to take any risks, she put her new outfit out of her bag. It was the contrary of her usual style : a light pink and flowered pattern short dress, high heels (which made her look taller and changed a little bit her way to walk), fake glasses, a elegant fedora and more make up. She looked like a completly different person. Once she was changed, she made her order to look more credible. Holding her burning tea in one hand, she walk to the station and waited. Behind her glasses she observed the crowd seeking for the detective. She had not asked him to be disguised yet she knew him too well to know that he would. After all she was paid to watch him…

She took her phone which she had decorated with a very girly phone case, in her character's style. She was faking writing text when she saw him. He was wearing the Tube employee's outfit which gave him a good reason to stay in the same place and to observe the people around. Mary went to him and pretended to ask for her way through the labyrinth called the Tube.

« Hello, could you help me ? » she said as she was putting a card out of her bag. « I have to go to Regent Park where I meet a friend.

\- You have to take the Bakerloo line, madam. He stops at Baker Street.

\- When is the next one ?

\- In about five minutes » he said after a few seconds.

« Where do I go to step in ?

\- You can wait in front of this ad. You can see it coming from there. »

The detective stayed there a few seconds before going without rushing to the staff area. She saw him walking out a few moment later with a brand new deguisement. He wore a pair of jeans, a black sweat shirt with the hood on the head, trainers and a backbag. He looked like a student. Their eyes met. He stood next to her without a word. They stepped in the car so full that they had to stand by each other, shoulder against shoulder. Mary took her phone and pretended to call someone. She saw in the corner of her eyes that Sherlock did that too. Perfect. They could talk to each other without Mary's watchmen, who were not very bright, knowing it, if they were able to identify them.

« Hello ! I need your help. »

The dective waited a few seconds before answering, as if he was involved in a very different conversation.

« First, tell me what happened yesterday. It becomes one of your habits to shoot me.

\- I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I had no choice. I was given orders…I did my best for you not to be in big trouble. I've actually _missed_ you this time » she added in a little giggle as a try to lighten up the atmosphere.

« Next time, just text me, okay ? » he answered with a smile in his voice. « Well, tell me from the very beginning. And don't forget a thing.

\- Alright, I'll try to be as precise as I can. »


	5. From the beginning then

« After the end of my linguistic studies, I entered the MI6 so I could really use my talent for something that worth it. At first I was in the office, doing administrative work all day long. I hated that. It was so…boring. Then I saw a memo saying that they needed real agents. I decided to give it a chance. I nailed a lot the tests and exams and trained really hard. After the final interview I was a real agent, ready to kick some asses. Finally some action.

My missions were very desappointing however. Too calm. I thought I'd be more in danger. Being a young woman, I was most of the time a watchman for spoiled girls. I had the feeling that my abilities weren't used the right way.

During one particular mission, maybe three months later, I met a man. A special man. I can't say more about the mission otherwise Mycroft would kill me. Litterally. Somehow there was finally some action. He was what I was capable of and he contacted me.

I remember as if it was yesterday. The smell of the leather, the alcohol bruning my throat, his puzzling smile, his dead eyes, the sound of his voice…He asked me to follow him in his privet office. I was on the defensive but I had my gun and he was alone. I could defend myself if I needed so walked into the room. He sat in the armchair and noded towards the other one. He snapped his fingers and a tall and strong man brought us glasses of whiskey. He took his and daydreamed for several minutes. I started to loose my patience. I was standing up when he finally decided to talk again.

« Miss, I have to admit that you impressed me. I'll need people like you. And I never say that of the first date.

\- I beg your pardon ?

\- Adrenaline addict, people who don't like the daily routine, who get bored and who aren't scared to…do what it needs to be done for their own purpose.

\- And you believe I'm like that ?

\- You're a hands-on woman, I saw you in action. Don't try to tell me that you didn't enjoy that. I'd be hurt. »

As an answer I drank.

« I want you. I want you to be my assistant. I'll help me in your buissiness. Of course this implies some risks but I already know it won't be a problem for you. You'll be reachable twenty four hours a day.

\- You use the futur tense ? Are you so sure that I'll accept your offer ? That I'll work for you ?

\- I'm not the kind who gets refused anything, sweetheart. Besides, you _really_ want to go back and watch over spoilled rich girls ? To play the watchman for paranoid, Mrs Moran ? »

I have to say that I haven't really hesitated. He intrigued me and I was blinded by his promises of an exciting live. I'm like my husband…he hadn't hesitate too much before fellowing you in your adventures, espacially after you mentionned danger. I'm not trying to find excuses. I'm just trying put things in perspective. Plus I didn't really know what were those activities and my part in his network.

We agreed that I had to still work for the MI6 for a while. I couldn't slammed the door right away, I had to have a cover. After my missions, I went to Jim and followed his orders. I was his handyman : threatening someone, killing another one, worming out information… He hates to get his hands dirty. But quickly he saw my potential and let me conduct my own missions. I was his associate. He found the cases and created the perfect plan while I saw through the missions. I had the guidelines but I could change according to the situation without fearing feedbacks for he knew my intelligence. He had the reputation and I had the thrill of the action. Everyone was happy. Yet we all took risks. He never mentioned my name, I had to hide in dark closet to listen to our clients' stories. That's why you couldn't connect me to the Network. That wasn't a kind of kindness nor altruism. It was his back-up plan. Knowing that a faithful person – as long as he can trust anyone – could help him escaping prison, could save him no matter how.

I was the one who drove Jim to the pool for the first meeting. That was so easy. I stopped a car next to him and asked him to step inside. He didn't suspect a thing since Mycroft always does that… He doesn't know we've already met years ago. Truth to be told I didn't quite look the same : thiner, long brown hair – very common but awefully annoying. It's a pain in the arse, this long hair, do you know that ? It gets you warm, it's always on your face, gets on your zipper…Plus that _also_ helps that I was the driver and that he couldn't clearly see my face. Well, I'm disgressing from the subject. »

Mary did a long pause. She gazed at the ceiling several minutes, trying to chase away her tears and to not let her voice betray her emotion.

« I was in the pool that night. I had to make sure that you'd stay there to listen to what he wanted to tell you. Actually, I was at every one of your confrontations. (Pause). I threatend the jury at the trial. I was the one who convinced Mycroft to let Jim out when I was still working for him. Me again who kidnapped those children. By the way, I was against that idea, I told him so but he didn't want to listen. I took care of it because he would have sent his minders otherwise. I was the one who threatened John when you were on that roof…

I regret many things in my life but my deepest regrets are my horrible actions when I worked by his side. »

This time Mary let her tears shed. She closed her eyes and found herself in that pool again. The darkness. The wait. The typic smell of the chlorine. The silence. Then a door slapping. A voice. The beginning of the show. Every puppet at its place as Moriarty wanted it. She pictured herself pointing with hesitation her gun at Sherlock's head on the signal. She had not a reason to feel guilty back then. It was just another mission for her, nothing more. Yet this time the target knew what he was up to (and was still breathing after the confrontation). The dark pool gave way to the fresh air and the bright light of the outskirts of St Bart. The weigt of her gun when she put it up. The wait. And finally nothing.

« Before climbing on that roof he knew. He had planned everything. You too, of course. You too are very similar…Unlike what you said at the airport, he is still alive. He didn't want to tell me how he survived but I have a theory. Before waiting for you that notorious day, he handed me a long lasting mission. He told me he had to go away for a while and asked me to keep an eye on John. He planned that somehow you'd escape and I was asked to watch over him in case you'd come back. I used to follow him. I was hidden behind a magazine in the waiting room at his therapist's, I was next in his line at Tesco's… And finally I decided it would be easier to be a collegue of his. I knew he couldn't recognise me nor know who I really was. But I swear on everything that I hold dear that Jim never told me to get closer to him. That wasn't part of the plan. I really fell in love with him. Since the first drink together. I've wanted to tell him the truth. About me, about Jim and… about you. But if I told him everything I knew, he would have sufferd and dumped me. It was more than I could bear. I didn't say a word about Jim. I almost managed to forget that life. But when you came back, I suddendly woke up. I felt like It was like a violent slap in the face. If you were back then I'd have to go back to him… I tried to ignore him but I made me crawling back to him. He put John on the bonfire. Magnussen had nothing to do with it. His messsage was so clear, wasn't it ? « John or James ». I had to choose : stay faithful to my then future-husband and let him burn or turn my back to the ones I loved by going back to him. I felt like I was Christine Daaé. Except the fact that there is no love between him and me. Not even respect, at least from me. When John came to your flat after the accident, I paid a visit to Jim.

« What the hell have you done ? Are you mad ? Why have you pu John in a bonfire ? »

I was in a fury. I didn't care of the danger around me. I knew that it wasn't wise to come to threaten the Consulting Criminal in front of his own men but I didn't give a damn. I took him by the lapel of his coat and shook him.

« Are you going to answer me at some point ?! »

I brought up my gun and put it against his head.

« I want an answer. Right now ! You knew I'd the gut to shoot. I'm a snipper, I can achieve a target from 3200 feet and I'm your contract assassin. Do you really think for one second that there's a tiny chance for me to miss you ? »

He smiled. Oh how I hate this cold, petty and scheming smile. He raised his chin toward me and one of his handymen violently pushed me back. I fell on the floor but I got up quickly. I set forth him again yet the bodyguard twisted my arm to force me to drop my gun before holding my arm on my back. He came towards me. He radiated condescendance.

« Oh my, you became attached to the little puppy, didn't you ? Truely the docteur Watson is popular. I'm not fond of him myself. Too annoying and boring. Yet so useful. Don't forget where you belong Moran. »

I couldn't see him through my tears. I felt the urge to pinch him in the face. He slowly walked away while keeping on staring at me. I could see his face slightly moving from left to right.

« From now on, I snap my fingers, you run. Understood ? Otherwise, the poor little Johnny would have to spend some more time in the hospital. »

And he left with his handymen. I crownled on the ground and started crying. All I could say was : « I'm not Moran anymore, it's Mary Morstan now ».

On my wedding day, I really thought that he'd send something, one of his twisted message to remind me my allegiance, one of his bodyguards or something like that. But he didn't. He let me seize the day. Well almost. Do you remember one of the messages you've read ? The one about my family ? He was signed CAM. Charles Augustus Magnessen. But I haven't met him yet. I knew that he couldn't know me. Of course I've heard of him. Jim wanted to get rid of him. He didn't find him dangerous but just really annoying. He was in his way and he had to be stopped. I didn't take care of him when Jim wanted. I guess that he let him know some information about me on purpose so I'd decide to kill him. He explained his plan to me on our next confrontation. I had apprehensions but I knew I had to do it. You know what happened next. I shot you, you were hurt and I got all your attention. I put my couple in danger as well. But Jim planned that you'd stop Magnussen. That somehow you'd find somehow to get him arrested. He didn't think that you'd kill him for John and for me. He spreat his recorded message right when your plane took off because he knew that Mycroft – I mean, the British Government – would beg you to stay. He didn't want you to leave so early. It wasn't his choice. He did that just to show you that you're his puppet.

He gave me another mission two days ago. The last mission. He didn't say it but it was implicit. The end of work together was in the air. I had to (Pause. Mary took a deep breath). I had to kill you. He thought it was about time to end this all, stop this feud between you and him. He doesn't want to do it himself…I'm not enterly sure that he can use a gun. If he had had a really loaded gun on that roof, I'm sure that he'd still have managed to miss himself. He asked me to do it because as his second in command it's as if he was shooting. But I couldn't. I can't. I really love you. Not to mention that John would be broken. This is the perfect moment to take control on my life again and to overcome Jim's poisonous influence. »

Once her story told, Mary stepped outside the Tube without a look to Sherlock. She didn't make it to home right away as she suspected Moriarty's men to keep an eye on her, so she wandered in the streets, sometimes stopping at shops' windows. Lunch time was closing in and she thought it was it was time to get rid of her disguise. She went to the first EAT. that she saw (she did not have to wait for long). Plainly herself again, she ordered sometimes to eat then went back home. She felt relieved to have told everything to Sherlock though it did not change much.


	6. Here's the plan

On the beginning of her street, she was two rather siniter guys waiting for her. She held towards them. The guy on the left saw her and nudged his colleague, who was busy playing some stupid game on his phone, and raised his chin towards the second on command of the Network. When she got close to them, the guy on the right, who seemed to be the boss of the duo, asked her :

« Where were you ? We've looked for you everywhere and you've been hanging around here for hours !

\- I was in mission. I don't think I owe you any explaination. May I know why you're still here ? And congratulations for the discretion. I'm sure no one would have noticed two suspicious looking guys on a residential neighbourhood. »

The two men seemed to try to think about the meaning of those sentences before finally accepting their boss' answer. They took her to a big black car. She sat in the backseat alone. The machine roared and the car hurtled off to the criminals' lair.

Mary stepped in the livingroom where Moriarty was without knocking.

« You asked for me, sir » she said as she was bowing in a sarcastic way.

Jim did not even condescend to look at her, too busy flipping through a old manuel from which dust escaped after every pages.

« I thought I was clear. »

He called out to the boss' duo.

« I speak English, right ?

\- Er, yes sir.

\- Then why, he said looking at Mary with his empty eyes, why is Sherlock still alive ? Have you decided to make him catch a bad cold with your bullet ? That he'll die slowly with his nose red and a sore throat ?

\- You asked me to kill him, I do it my way.

\- Bore him to death ?

\- Don't you think that a bullet in a head, shot from a building you blew up on your first date, it's a little bit suspect ? Even Scotland Yard official could solve this.

\- Nobody never get to me.

\- Thanks who ? Who's always there to change too dangerous plans or to kill the ones who got too close to you ?

\- You're becoming cheeky. Truely you're upsetting and you know what happens when someone upsets …

\- No need to threaten me, Ratigan. You'll soon be over Sherlock, you have my word. Now, if you'll excuse me…, she said as she walked to the door. Oh, and one last thing : stop watching over me. First, it draws attention and second, it distracts me. »

Mary left the criminal consultat and called out the two bodyguards who followed her into the room.

« Would you be kind and drive me back where you found me or should I call a cab ? » The boss gave her a dirty look and gritted his teeth. As an answer, he led her to the car and opened for her the back door. Mary sat down and the car started. She leant her elbrow on the door and looked by the window, her face on her hand. She saw the sight moving, the streets of London giving place to other streets. There was no other sound in the car that its machine. No one disturbed the silence. The car stopped and Mary stepped outside without a word and walked slowly to her door. It was locked. John probably went for a father-and-daughter walk. She looked down at her phone to check if he had tried to call her. No call. No reason to worry. John probably thought she was still at work, or on her way, that it was a normal day. In a way, it was indeed a normal day for her : spy on Sherlock and do a report to Moriarty. She went to the kitchen and started to cook dinner.

John came back half an hour later, probably inconsciously attracted by the smell. He put Rose in bed right away as she was already sleeping in her pushchair. He sat down in front of Mary in the kitchen. Mary stayed vague when he asked about her day. John, on the other hand, did not have much to talk about after staying all day long with a baby too young to do anything but sleeping.

When the dinner was over and the kitchen tidy, Mary went to her daughter's bedroom. She sat in the armchair near the bed and watched her sleeping. John joined her and put his hand of her shoulder. « You don't go in the living room ?

\- No, I'd like to stay by her side, I haven't seen her today.

\- Bad day at work ?

\- Quite.

\- Okay » and he kissed her before leaving.

Mary waited the sound of the television before taking her phone. She searched on Google several poisons and their differences. After she made her choice, she deleted her history, put her phone back in her pocket, kissed her still sleeping daughter's forehead and joined John in the couch.

A few days later, she had the poison and everything was set for the final act. She went to Baker Street, alone, pretending once again that she was going to work. Mrs Hudson opened the door, told her that Sherlock had left for a case and invited her for a cup of tea which she accepted. When she heard the front door opening again, she drank the rest of her cup, thanked Mrs Hudson and followed Sherlock on the stairs.

« Mary ! Have you found a solution ?

\- Perhaps. But wait. »

They stepped inside the living room and seeked for Moriarty's cameras and microphones. As he let his handywoman take care of the detective, he had not put anything in the flat. Sherlock sat in his armchair and invited Mary to sit in her husband's. She searched in her purse and brought out a sachet holding a pale flower and holly looking green leafs.

« It's _datura stranonium_. It's a rather powerful poison that prompts hallucinations, panik attacks, muscle weakness, among others. I'll pretend to poison you with it.

\- Is Moriarty satisfied with that death ? Is it theatrical enough ? Won't he suspect something ?

\- No, I told him that he had to rely on me. This plant is always used by drug addicts as a substitute and it'd look like it was an overdose. No one would think of poisoning. Moriarty'd love the irony of the situation.

\- That's petty. »

Mary rejected the remark with the back of her hand. « I'll make you a cup of tea and I'll take a cup of coffee. Once you'll have drunk it, I'd pour a dose of _datura_ in your cup and then into the sink. You'll have to fake the symptoms because you'll come to check. He'll want you to see his face as the last you'll ever see. He'll want you to know the truth about me. »

The plan was executed as soon as she finished it. She slightly made Sherlock up so he looked ill. He laid down on the couch and she put an half-full needle next to him on the floor, as if it fell from his hand. The scenery was perfect and she left to announce the « good » news to her boss.


	7. The Final Act

Mary passed by several bodyguards before entering the room where Jim always met her, but as usual she did deign to look at them. She knocked on the door and waited for the signal.

Moriarty was sitting in his usual leather armchair in front of the fireplace. He was holding a book. Mary thought she had read _Psycho_ on the cover but she could not swear it. He finished with a rush his chapter, as he was only in the room, then put the book back on the bookshelf and sat down again. He finally looked at Mary and raised an eyebrow to incite her to talk. Mary sat on the other armchair and then began her story.

« You'll get rid of Sherlock Holmes in about…3 hours » she said as she looked down on her watch.

« May I know how my archenemy will die or must I be informed via the newspaper like the rest of the rabble ?

\- I made him drink without him knowing some _datura stramonium_. First he'll have a massive panik attack. Then some hallucinations. Then he won't be able to move while being more thursty as he's never been. Finally he'll have a heart attack. A tragic end for the Reichenbach hero.

\- An intoxication, that's toooo simple. Everybody'll find out.

\- Exactly. You don't know the best part yet : it's a plant used by the drug addicts to get high. I waited for him to fall asleep on the couch to put a needle in his hand. Everyone will think of an overdose.

\- And he'll only be remembered for his flaws…Not bad, Moran. Not bad at all. »

Mary could not help herself to shiver when she heard that name but Moriarty did not pay attention to it as he was too busy gazing at his chef-d'œuvre and checking every detail.

« Has somebody seen you ?

\- Mrs Hudson saw me climbing the stairs but a nurse, who is his best friend's wife, would never give him that. » she added mocking. « There's no worry about that.

\- Perfect. I think that I'll pay this dear detective one last visit »

He called one of his henchmen who was watching the door and ordered him to prepare the car. He stood up, straightened his tie with his fingertips and buttoned up his coat. He nodded to Mary to follow him and they both walked out of the house and sat on the backseat on the car. The journey was calm. She could feel Moriarty's excitement but he did not say a word. The car stopped in front of 221B and, just before stepping outside, Moriarty asked his men not stop the machine and to be ready. Mary's heart was racing.

Moriarty easily opened the door and climbed the stairs, Mary behind him. She noticed that Mrs Hudson's flat, on the ground floor, was empty. Surely Sherlock had taken away in anticipation of the Consulting Criminal's visit. The latter opened the consultive detective's livingroom door and found him laying down on the couch, exactly where Mary left him one hour and an half earlier. Moriarty entered, pushed the detective's luxurious armchair near the couch and sat down. Mary stood still in the doorway. Sherlock opened his eyes and tried to sit down, in vain.

« No, no, please, keep on streching out, make yourself at home. No need to thank me for saving yourself from exil. My pleasure. I couldn't let you fly from me. »

Sherlock tried to swallow several times. He did not forget any of the symptoms Mary had told him.

« You're not dreaming. It's not an effect of the drug. I'm here. I look well for someone who ate his gun, don't I ? But, oh my, what was I thinking ? I've forgotten my manners ! May I introduce you Moran, my second in command. But you've already met, haven't you ? »

Mary took place behind her boss and looked at Sherlock faking surprise and horror.

« I warned you : I'd burn the heart out of you. But I'm afraid it won't keep on beating for long. Do you want me to hold your hand to comfort you in this tiresome part ? » he laughed.

Sherlock looked up and saw Mary aiming at the Consulting Criminal's head.

« Oh, nice, very nice. Well played ! I should have been suspicious. Mycroft however warned me : never trust a spy. Does it ring a little bell, Sherlock ? Like on our first date : me threatened and you thinking you'd win and then, I'm the one who wins. You seem to forget, Moran, that I have two henchmen outside, armed and waiting for me.

\- And you seem to forget that I'm also their boss and I'm a shooter than any of them.

\- You're hurting me, dear. Thinking that I'd spent some many precious hours choosing the very best and training them to hear that…But you won't kill me. Not here, you wouldn't want to stain Mrs Hudson's wallpaper. And I, also, have a little surprise for you, my dearest. I took the liberty of inviting John and little Rose for this family moment. »

Helpless, Mary saw by the nearest window John, who was holding Rose closely to his chest with his right hand around her head to protect her, being escorted by the two henchmen who drove Moriarty and her there. With a gun aimed at his head, John climbed the stairs to the already full flat. He was surprised to see his wife aiming at the man who was behind all his misfortune.

« Hello, Johnny ! The whole family is finally here. Now, if you'll agree, we will behave like civilised people and put away our guns.

\- What if I refuse ?

\- Well, I'd be forced to order Rose's execution. It would break my heart, really… »

Mary lowered her gun. She had to think, and quick.

«What if you let Rose go to show willing ?

\- Why would I do that ?

\- Because you have enough grown-ups, don't you think ? You don't need to threaten a baby.

\- I may be a psychopath but I'm not a monster. Take her to the ground-floor. »

She waited to hear Mrs Hudson's door opening before signaling to Sherlock. With a revival of energy, he stood up and caught the gun hid under the pellow on whom he was lying seconds before. John took advantage of his guard's surpise to disarm him as well. He was then holding the gun against the man's temple while Sherlock and Mary were both aiming at Moriarty. The latter raised both his hands then started to laugh.

« Is it the kind of reactions you wanted ? What did you expect ? Me to remorse ? Me to get on my knees and apologize ? Don't be ridiculous. You really thought that would be that easy ? »

Mary had had enough of him. She shot him in the left knee. He louded out a cry when the bullet touched the bone. He lowered his hand which went to surrounder the wound to stop the bleeding.

« No consequences. Only hot air. Empty threats. Sherlock, John, get out and take Rose with you. Now !

\- Mary…

\- No, it's between him and me. »

John looked at his wife without stopping aiming at the guard. He gave a sidelook to Sherlock who waved to the door. Unwillingly John followed Sherlock out of the building, still aiming at the guard to force him to leave with them.

« You had to tell me that you've a crush on me. No use of all this dramatization. » Moriarty was putting every effort on not showing how badly he was hurt.

« What are you going to do now ? To kill me ? You won't have the guts. It will never stop. You can't leave me Moran. »

Mary heard a shot on the street. She rushed to the window and saw John falling.

« It looks like the soldier finally fell. Who's next ?

\- You ! »

Through her tears, Mary managed to shot Moriarty in the head. She saw with satisfaction the look of surprise on his face.

She hurtled down the stairs and ran to John. He was lying on the pavement in a pudle of his blood. Sherlock was by his side and was pushing on his wound to stop the blood. His shoulder was once again wounded. She kneeled by his side. He struggled to keep his eyes open.

« John ! John ! Stay with me. It will be alright, I swear.

\- Could…could you stop yelling at me, please ? »

The ambulance came and Sherlock and Mary were pushed aside. While John was being laid down on the stretcher, Mary turned to Sherlock.

« Take care of Rose, I'm going with John. » Then she climbed on the ambulance next to her husband. The doors closed to Sherlock holding in his arms Rose while the worried and breathless Detective Inspector Lestrade tried to know what happened.

Mary did not leave John's sides the next days. He was seriously wonded but his condition was getting better every day. He was tough.

She stayed on the chair near the bed with the same dread as that evening at Baker Street. This time she knew that she had to tell him her whole story and that he would never forgive her. She was always waiting for the dreadful question « Did you work for him ? ». But they were harldy just the two of them in the room. Of course Sherlock spend most of his days at the hospital with John. Mrs Hudson, Molly, Stamford often paid a visit. Even Mycroft came once or twice, while giving Mary dirty looks which translated all his thoughts about her. He thought she was at fault of this and she could not blame him as she was thinking that as well. It all hapenned because of her. If only she had had earlier the courage to confront Moriarty….

Several days after his admission, John was getting better enough to leave the hospital. The evening before his come-back home, as they were both in the room without another visitor, Mary expected to be questionned. As John did not seem to broach the subject, Mary decided to start the conversation herself.

« John, about what happened…

\- Mary, I really thought what I told you on Christmas day. I don't want to know what you did in the past, who you were. You're Mary Watson, my wife, my daughter's mother and that's all I ever wanted. »


End file.
